


throw the keys back to me

by thermocline



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 2020 Season, Getting Back Together, M/M, Porn with Feelings, author just showed up but is thrilled to be here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27853410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thermocline/pseuds/thermocline
Summary: But Daniel gets texts from Max more and more often. Links to TikToks. Selfies from the paddock. Snapchat memories of Daniel under the rumpled blankets of Max’s hotel bed in Melbourne, hickies blooming over his chest, at which point Daniel thinks: maybe it’s time for them to try again.
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Comments: 11
Kudos: 122





	throw the keys back to me

**Author's Note:**

> hi new fandom! I burned through season one of DTS in 24 hours before falling into a tumblr hole, and I don't know much but I'm vibing hard!! max and daniel's dynamic is just [chef kiss].
> 
> title is from gasoline by haim, which felt appropriate. enjoy!

In all of his years driving, Daniel has learned to count in tenths. Tenths of a second, of a degree, of a km/h windspeed as his reflexes carry him into a particularly hard turn.

There are only twenty of them, Daniel thinks. For two to get involved would be a tenth of the field. 

It’s volatile, but he’s never been one to shy away from a challenge.

+

In 2018, in a city he cannot for the life of him remember, Daniel shoves Max into a bathroom stall and both of their worlds move glacially off-center.

They were always heading here, he supposes as Max bites down on his tongue and then  _ apologizes _ , the fucker; best friends and bitter rivals. Daniel is the only person who can make Max laugh in front of a news camera. Max is the only person Daniel trusts to wrap him in a brutal hold and make space for himself inside Daniel’s body; the only one he wants to do it, now that he knows how goddamn good it feels. 

And they both know it isn’t going to be a forever thing. Daniel’s headed to Renault sooner rather than later, and Max feels a little bad about casting a shadow, but it isn’t him, it’s Dan. He wants to self-determine after a goddamn decade with the same team and the same reputation, the same people watching him grow up.

He just – wants out. And he knows that Max will find his way back to him, when he’s meant to.

At least, anyone who fucks him that thoroughly won’t stay a stranger for long.

+

The intensity at which they live, the depth at which they feel and the stakes at which they compete makes their four years stretch into eons. 

Max and Daniel are a multitude of stories, depending on who or when or where or how someone asks. There’s ire, and ridicule, and an undercurrent of bone-crushing  _ want  _ that the two of them have never known how to handle. There’s the years they spent as rivals, the hundreds of millions of dollars they’ve left as wreckage in the wake of their relationship, the one-off bets and hotel fucks that fell into a rhythm to diffuse the tension around them. They didn’t get to  _ boyfriends _ , before Daniel’s contract fell through, and didn’t talk about what had happened the second Daniel had left. At least not sober, or not in anything but a passing joke, like slapping a band-aid on a flesh wound. 

But Daniel gets texts from Max more and more often. Links to TikToks. Selfies from the paddock. Snapchat memories of Daniel under the rumpled blankets of Max’s hotel bed in Melbourne, hickies blooming over his chest, at which point Daniel thinks: maybe it’s time for them to try again.

+

After Bahrain, they’re saddled together at spots three and four in the field. Indistinguishable, again. 

The text Daniel gets from Max is simple: a room number, a time, and a heart emoji. He stares at his phone. Did the heart emoji ever feel this sappy before, coming from Max?

The carpet in the hotel hallway smells sharp and chemical when Daniel slips out to visit him. It’s a sign that it’s  _ just  _ late enough for him to Daniel to be making choices this questionable. They’ve only been talking regularly of their own accord for the past few months, after more than a year of not speaking. But surely if the cleaning staff has already left, and there’s some boisterous laughter from a few rooms down, the night is late enough to cover him with an excuse.

Daniel raps his knuckles hollowly against the door and finds himself greeted with Max’s signature intense stare. 

On the desk behind him, the third-place trophy gleams. Daniel swallows hard.

“Can I-“ he starts, but doesn’t get to finish. 

“Hi,” Max says. “Come in, come in.” 

The room is almost gaudily minimalistic. There are floor-to-ceiling windows with huge draped curtains that Daniel would’ve considered fucking Max against, had they been a few years younger and stupider. Their last stay in the UAE wasn’t nearly as conducive to private activities – if they weren’t all hyper-conscious of the pandemic, they’d be drinking and screaming over FIFA on the floor of someone’s suite – but now it’s just them, and their respective loneliness, and the unavoidable. And the hallways are empty, and Max is alone thanks to health and safety protocol, and he’s so uncharacteristically  _ soft _ , joyously wrung-out from the satisfaction of getting on the podium, hands fidgeting against his side like he’s waiting for permission to touch, waiting for Daniel to just cross his doorway–

And Daniel tucks his hands in his pockets and does. 

Max shuts the door behind them, flipping the extra lock. Daniel’s heart jumps into his mouth. The sense memory of their last time in a hotel like this, two seasons ago (Max shoving him into the wall, Max’s hands on his throat, Max fucking into him like he’d never care for anything as precious, Max’s chest reddened and shaking as Daniel held him close after his orgasm) hits Daniel like a tidal wave. He wonders, belatedly, what he is and isn’t allowed to do to Max tonight. 

Daniel gestures towards the trophy, cocking his head. They both know why he’s here. “Congratulations.”

Max cracks a small smile and takes the hand that Daniel has just unwittingly extended, redirecting him to the bed. It’s barely a few steps before Daniel’s kicking off his slides and clambering up, and the two of them settle in the center of the mattress, facing each other. For all that Max runs his mouth, his silence makes Daniel fret.

“I’m really happy to see you again,” Max confesses, dipping his head like he’s a little shy about it. Suddenly, Daniel isn’t nervous anymore. They’re reaching for each other before Daniel even registers the physical impulse to extend his arms, and their heads bonk together, and it isn’t in any way an easy reunion – did Max get taller? he definitely got  _ bigger _ , Christ almighty – but there’s an old path of familiarity in the embrace They’ve always functioned best instinctually.

Learning to touch each other again is a half-expected hurdle. There’s new strain on Max’s hips and knees, the bones protruding ever so slightly as Daniel traces the edges of his body. Max nudges his knees apart, beckoning Daniel in. Daniel catches a flash of skin along Max’s ankle as he scoots between Max’s legs, sitting criss-cross. Warmth seeps into Daniel’s bones where they make contact along their shins and thighs. It’s a familiar home.

Daniel reaches to cup Max’s jaw. Max lists into the touch. “Max, you did fantastic out there today. What a treat.”

Max sighs, tension leaking from the slope of his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Daniel doesn’t know where the sincerity in his own voice stems from. It’s been a year of aching since they let themselves get close like this, but god, did he miss it.

Max’s eyes roam Daniel’s body. A soft smile looks good on him. It’s strange, how both of them hesitate initiation in moments like this, but Daniel can’t bring himself to make the first move when things feel so prone to failure. Behind them is a mountain of past expectations, and before them is the headstrong desire for things to be different this time.

But Max’s expression is open, vulnerable, and Daniel knows that he only ever wants to be seen, to be heard. 

So Daniel looks at him – really looks. Max’s eyes are tired, his posture a little more closed-off now that they’re racing without an audience. His energy feels a little quieter in the absence of feedback, even with his record just as strong.His cheeks are flushed from the heat of the aircon, and from Daniel near him. His hair is getting long enough to fall over his forehead – at least one part of him is finally giving into the inevitability of gravity.

Max opens his mouth to draw a sharp inhale, and Daniel leans forward, crushing him into a kiss.

Daniel knows the feeling of this: the shaking out of a carpet, a long-rattling sigh, a highway of neurons with double-time impulses traveling along them. His body sinks into the ice bath of adrenaline. He’s learned to love, to call home, to make a career out of this sense of _forward_ , but he rarely thinks about what comes next. The past two years have felt like a constant _on_ , bouts of rest that he could never really sink into, but when Max puts his hands on Daniel’s face, kisses him _softer_ , slows him down–

God, does Daniel feel it like an unraveling. 

He’d forgotten (and how could he, god how could he) what it felt like to kiss Max. How good it felt to have someone intuitively know that he should be handled firmly and carefully, hit and kissed better, paced slowly and pressed hard.

Max bites down on Daniel’s lip, and Daniel whines.  _ Needy _ , Max teases, as if he doesn’t know that Daniel isn’t proud of just how much he wants. There’s a hot bloom of humiliation in Daniel’s gut. He knocks Max onto his back and lets the spring of the mattress absorb their weight, and Max reaches up to tangle his fingers in Daniel’s hair just to feel it against his hands. When Max presses his lips to Daniel’s, it’s so forceful that Daniel can feel the outline of his teeth.

“I-“ Daniel starts. There’s a little thread of fear winding its way through his stomach and knotting under his sternum. “I don’t know if I’m ready to –” 

What  _ is _ he ready for? What wouldn’t he give Max, if Max asked for it?

Daniel trails off. “God, Max, I just wanna touch you everywhere.”

Max strokes a thumb over Daniel’s collarbone. “Okay, then do that,” he says plainly. Then, after a pause, he adds, “To be honest, I wasn’t even sure that you’d come by.”

“I wasn’t either,” Daniel admits, suppressing a small laugh. 

Max grins at him. “You’re hopeless.”

“ _ Hope-less-ly devoted to youuuu,”  _ Daniel counters, and then they’re both laughing, and he’s tucking his face into Max’s neck and relishing in the feeling of Max wrapping his arms around his back, squeezing him tightly. Daniel breathes him in, laundry detergent and leather and teflon. Maybe leaving Red Bull was the right choice, if it means he gets to have Max again.

( _ Have him again _ . As if he already had Max once, and was smart enough to call it that. God, he’s such an idiot.)

Max traces his fingers under the hem of Daniel’s shirt, and Daniel flinches before settling into the touch. He lets himself exhale, then nods so that Max knows he’s good to keep going. It starts easy, mindless, as everything they did used to. Max draws little circles along the length of Daniel’s spine, digging his nails into the skin with just a hint of harshness on the way down to make Daniel flinch again. 

“You hold yourself so tightly,” Max remarks, as if it’s a suggestion to do better. His palm flattens Daniel’s lower back decisively, pressing Daniel’s hips towards his own. Daniel’s breath is hot against the fabric of Max’s t-shirt, his stomach going molten. Whatever tension they’d dissolved with the  _ Grease  _ reference is back and bigger than ever.

“Max,” Daniel tries. His breath is caught in his own chest. He and Max are pressed front-to-front, almost every surface of their exposed skin touching, and it isn’t anywhere near enough. Not even fractionally. He arches his back.

Max meets him halfway, moving to trace the waistband of Daniel’s shorts. He doesn’t stray any lower. “I missed you,” he whispers, in total contrast to the way he’s barely teasing Daniel with his fingertips, hot skin dragging against wispy hairs, and Daniel  _ whines. _

In response, instead of teasing him for his reaction, it’s Max who starts this time. He kisses the top of Daniel’s head, then his forehead, the tip of his nose, the curve of his brow bone. Daniel pushes himself up onto his elbows so that his ass is flush to Max’s groin, cradling Max’s face in both of his hands, and Max gives a surprisingly gratifying moan when their mouths meet again, fisting a hand in Daniel’s shirt.

Of all the things that could have changed in the last year and a half, Daniel’s glad that the way Max kisses him has stayed the same. He loses track of how long they spend making out, ignoring how hard he is in favor of letting himself be consumed by the heat of Max’s body against his.

“Dan,” Max says, when they finally break apart. Dan opens his eyes, and fuck, Max is right there, so close that Daniel can see all of his eyelashes, how red his cheeks are. There’s a tiny, completely missable bruise under his jaw that Daniel doesn’t remember but also doesn’t regret putting there. 

He reaches out to touch it absentmindedly, and Max moans, swatting his hand away. “Before you work me up too much, the rookies told me about this thing they were doing, and I wanted–”

“Leave the kids out of this,” Daniel deadpans weakly. 

One corner of Max’s mouth turns up. Right – he  _ is  _ still technically one of the kids. God. “No, no, not – look, just let me show you.”

“Show me?” Daniel probes, but lets Max guide Daniel’s hands to his chest so that Daniel is mostly upright, looking down at him.

“It’s just something they were talking about to make sex better for them. You’re supposed to, like–” He pauses, smoothing his hands up Daniel’s sides. “Touch your partner one way, and that’s option one.”

Daniel waits, lets Max feel his ribcage expand on the inhale. “Then,” Max continues, and before Daniel can process it, Max tightens his grip, digging his fingers into Daniel’s waist possessively in a way that makes Daniel’s eyes close for a moment in overwhelm. “You give them a second option, and you say, ‘which do you like better, one or two?”

When Daniel opens his eyes, Max looks nervous, despite his firm hold. “So?”

Daniel covers Max’s hands with his own. “I like two,” he answers. Max grins.

Max’s shirt is already riding up, so Daniel helps it along, keeping eye contact with Max as he shoves it up his chest, exposing Max’s pecs in a borderline pornographic way. “It it my turn?”

Max nods, looking hungrily up at Daniel, and Daniel watches his throat as he swallows. Then he brushes a thumb across Max’s nipple. “One,” he starts, and doesn’t stop looking at Max as he bends down, craning his neck so that he can see Max’s mouth fall open when he runs the flat of his tongue across his areola, pulling back to give Max’s chest a soft kiss. “Or two?”

Daniel can feel Max’s breaths coming shorter and faster now. “Two for two,” Max says, shaky. He’s finally starting to sound as undone as Daniel has felt since they first got their hands on each other. 

But then Max bucks his hips against Daniel’s with a quiet, focused  _ one _ and pulls Daniel down to grind against his dick for  _ two _ , and Daniel’s head is fucking spinning. Here they are, ever-competitive, plucking each other into tiny pieces at every flashpoint of touch. 

One: He finds Max just as hard as he is when he strokes Max’s inner thigh. Two: Max moans pitifully when Daniel pushes the heel of his hand into the thick muscle of Max’s hip socket. One: Max sets his teeth into the hollow of Daniel’s throat; two, he nuzzles the skin there before pressing the flat of his tongue against Dan’s throat as if he’s fucking  _ claiming  _ him, and Daniel has a mortifying moment where he realizes he genuinely loves it. One thing Daniel finds out about Max, during his turn, is how he shakes slightly when Daniel kisses the shell of his ear before licking just under his earlobe (gross, but it  _ works _ ). 

With two fingers, Max traces around the head of his Daniel’s cock through his sweats in retaliation. And he’s still got another hand, Daniel realizes, tipping his head up in a silent ask and starting to fall apart the second that Max’s hand comes up a little higher up on his neck, close to the crease of his jaw. Max’s first finger splays outward, pointing towards Daniel’s chin. 

They pause there, staring at each other, Daniel’s breathing rough and Max’s eyes completely shot to hell. Daniel’s helpless in this position, like a puppy that Max could pick up by the scruff of its neck and just throw around; so unlike his usual role in bailing Max out of trouble whenever he decides to be a feisty bitch. The reversal shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, but he’s shaky, suddenly wishing he were completely out of his clothes so that Max could drink in the sight of him, press his mouth wherever he wants to on Daniel’s body.

No good reason not to. Daniel reaches one of his hands to the back of his own shirt and, without breaking eye contact with Max, pulls it over his head. Max gives a quiet, affirming noise, helping Daniel to toss it somewhere off the side of the bed, and then Daniel lets himself drop down for one more kiss before mouthing down the center line of Max’s body, stopping at the point where his ribs meet and dropping his head onto Max’s belly. 

And instead of going lower, he just – stays there. His cheek sticks to the soft skin where Max is sweating. Max’s desperate groan feels like victory.

“Please,” Max begs. “Please, please–”

And Daniel knows that, for all that Max tells him to slow down, it’s probably a bitter pill for both of them to swallow. So he presses a kiss to the space above Max’s pubic bone, pulls one of Max’s hands to his own dick, and opens his mouth to lick across just the head as Max tugs his cock free from his shorts, stripping himself fast with his fist as Daniel laves around his hipbones where he knows Max gets sensitive.

“Can I?” Max asks, and Daniel opens his mouth, watches Max’s distant face as his orgasm hits him, his body tensing and relaxing all at once with a quiet gasp of  _ oh my god, Dan.  _ And Daniel isn’t a quitter, so he licks his lips clean, waiting for Max to ride out his orgasm before he surges up to kiss Max’s taste back into his mouth. 

Max doesn’t even take a breath from kissing Daniel as they negotiate Daniel’s shorts down his thighs, and when he wraps a hand around him, Daniel’s brain and his body light up like a fucking Christmas tree. Max is gentler and faster than he used to be in getting Daniel off, and Daniel comes with his mouth open, pressing his noises into the meat of Max’s shoulder.  
  


“I got you,” Max soothes as Daniel muffles another sound, shuddering through the aftershocks.  Max is an omnipresent force holding him tightly to his chest, repeating  _ I got you, I got you _ , and something about the way he says it, the way he pulls Dan to settle on top of him, letting Dan lace his left hand in Max’s right, makes Dan believe it.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments are screened - let me know if you wouldn't like yours posted! 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @fairygiants (I am desperately in need of 18+ F1 mutuals, so come say hi!!)


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